In the heart of Lord Horatio Drake's vessel, the [i]Golden Aquila[/i], Lazarus Germael was performing and perfecting his craft on yet another unfortunate soul cursed with the bane of injury, which needed immediate treating. The patient in question was a senior member of the security crew, a minor officer and someone actually important enough to warrant treatment from the good Medicus himself, rather than an assistant or other member of the medicae staff aboard the ship. The officer was missing an arm due to an accident in one of the storage bays, a stray crate dropped from on high led to a crushed, and now amputated, appendage. A mask providing precious anesthetics was cupped over the man's face, as the machine and his lungs rasped in unison. Lazarus, dressed firmly for the occasion in protective gear over his usual attire, carefully mused over the bionic replacement the officer was to be issued.

Bionics like this were always a pleasurable procedure for Lazarus. Working the nerves of the human body, uniting man with machine, it was a gift of life he had learned from his dear friend Obel, and one he always paid homage to his old friend with. Every limb, mechadendrite, actuator, and every other bionic and cybernetic piece of hardware Lazarus would install was faintly marked with the letters 'F.O.', For Obel. Lazarus carefully hefted the limb from its initial placement on the delivery cart to just beside the treated, gaping shoulder of the man.

Lazarus began the arduous process of attaching the limb to the patient's body, connecting nerves to wires, bone to metal, and sewing shut the skin around the bionic connection. After a lengthy amount of time, the limb was properly and finally connected, with Lazarus having him carted away to the recovery ward as he stripped himself of the compromised cleanliness gear, restoring his more normal garb, and carefully scrubbing his reflective glasses. The operation was yet another success in a long list of chiurgeries under Lazarus's proverbial belt. As he dried his hands of the antimicrobial water, he saw the ship's First Mate, Briggs. Lazarus let out a faint sigh, facing the fellow former navy man.

"Is this a medicae check-up, Mr. Briggs? Or shall I presume you've come on behalf of Lord Drake again?"

Briggs informed Lazarus of the request in question, which Lazarus responded to with a simple "Thank you, Mr. Briggs." and a dismissive hand-wave. Returning to his quarters, located just a brief walk away from the medicae section, Lazarus would gather up his supplies, namely his various field medicus tools, and his autopistol and accompanying magazines. After gathering his needed accoutrements, and working his way to the shuttle bay, Lazarus was greeted by an entire band of armsmen, who directed him to the shuttle. After a brief time, Lord Horatio Drake stepped onto the deck. As he approached, Lazarus took it upon himself to greet the man who had so graciously employed him for this stretch of time.

"Lord Drake, a pleasure to see you again, sir."

"Tell me Lazarus, are we ready to go? Are [b]you[/b] ready to go?"

Lazarus lowered his spectacles enough to make his eyes clearly visible to all watching, glancing over the other members of the shuttle party, as well as the shuttle itself. After a brief pause, Lazarus would press the rims back up onto the upper bridge of his nose. 

"Well, my lord. I wouldn't presume to speak for the armsmen here, but I am fully prepared for the voyage at hand. I should also inform you that the nasty bit of trouble involving Sub-Lieutenant Sicus and the crate of autorifles has been resolved. The damage suffered by Mr. Sicus has been rectified with a bionic replacement, and the guilty party has been scheduled by his assigned Bosun for servitor conversion as soon as I'm next available. But enough about such trifles, shall we board the shuttle?"